


start, end

by minshuas



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Just Soonwoo kissing a lot., M/M, Some weird philosophical talk towards the end., lapslock, nothing explicit.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2019-03-22 06:12:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13757979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minshuas/pseuds/minshuas
Summary: a kiss through time.





	start, end

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wonuza](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wonuza/gifts).



> if u read my fics and expect me to have done a great job at proofreading, then you are wrong! i suck at proofreading and usually need to do it three times before i catch all my mistakes. this was proofread once. so if there are errors, i'm sorry. i'll go back to edit it after i stop Hating Myself for writing it. tbh this is the closest you'll get to sexy from me. the only explicit fic i ever have written was about masturbation. 
> 
> this is for amber. i don't know why. i woke up one day and said that i need to write this, for amber. also it may have had a little to do with it being february and the msg i got when i was told to write something nice to/about amber and i just had so much to say... 
> 
> i apologize ahead of time for this.

_**s** tart... _

time feels like it slows down for soonyoung, and he hopes it feels the same for wonwoo right now. “is this… are we…?” words become difficult for soonyoung to process because there is so much to say, but no time to say it. wonwoo’s gaze doesn’t waver from soonyoung’s, but soonyoung can’t maintain the eye contact for too long. there’s an intensity in his stare that turns soonyoung’s brain to mush and makes his heartbeat speed up until his blood feels like it’s boiling underneath his skin. “ _can_ I…? his voice cracks with a type of desperation that he feels residing within the core of his being.

wonwoo shifts, causing soonyoung’s breath to catch in his throat. “use your words, mister.” his eyebrow raises with a mischievous emotion. his intentions are dangerous, but soonyoung blindly trusts him with himself. he’s the only person he’s trusted like that. “may i remind you that i can’t read minds, even though i may seem like it sometimes.” mirth hides in the upwards quirking of his lips. he licks his lips, anticipation high.

“ _please_ ,” keens soonyoung, leaning impossibly closer. their foreheads end up bumping against one another. “you _know_ what i want.” this type of emotion is not exactly pleasant, but it is the farthest thing from unpleasant. soonyoung’s nerves are working overtime. hypersensitivity has his toes curling just because wonwoo’s breath is ghosting across his skin. their lips are only an accident away. “wonwoo, is this okay?” he’s almost in his lap. why wouldn’t this be okay? wonwoo’s hands haven’t left his hips since he’s traveled close enough to touch. actually, wonwoo is the only force keeping him so close.

a humming vibrates against the surface of his skin, causing some sort of ripple effect between his nerve endings. “this is okay,” he agrees, rubbing the tip of his nose along the length of soonyoung’s own. “is that what you wanted to ask?” wonwoo is teasing him until he can’t stand it anymore. his patience is already running out. soon enough, he won’t be able to handle this proximity without action. for years, he’s dreamt about what it might be like to kiss wonwoo: to be able to do so whenever he wants to, whenever he is close enough. now the possibility has presented itself, but soonyoung can’t conjure the words to communicate his feelings with wonwoo.

“no,” he pouts. it draws out a laugh from wonwoo. “don’t laugh at me!” he goes to swat his chest, but wonwoo catches him by the nape of the neck before he can pull away. he doesn’t want to lose this anymore than soonyoung does.

their lips meet and it is so soft. this softness is indescribable and addictive. wonwoo’s lips always look so chapped, but when soonyoung touches them, they are full and containing a wetness that makes soonyoung’s knees weak. their lips meet, then separate. it all happens too fast, but soonyoung doesn’t press him for more. he’s lucky to have received what he has. when his eyes open, his breath is stolen away by the brilliance of wonwoo’s smile. “i won’t laugh at you anymore,” his voice is soft. somehow, it keeps the mood of the moment even as his hand falls away from his neck, even as they separate. they twine their pinkies together on the couch beside them. “i promise.” but, to soonyoung,  it feels like he’s promising so much more with that gesture.

**_r_** _eturn_

“work in five?” wonwoo asks from the coffee table. his fingers are working overtime to produce the first rough draft of his novel. it had been due a month ago, but by some godly intervention, he had an extension handed to him. it turns out that’s all he had needed to successfully finish up his rough draft. he’s on the last stretch, or so he says. soonyoung isn’t quite sure if he’s actually slept in the past forty-eight hours.

from the other side of the kitchen, soonyoung hums. “yup!” he’s not excited about heading to work, especially when he’s not sure that wonwoo will properly take care of himself while he’s gone, but he has to go back to work. his sick days are running dangerously low. the flu had kicked his ass for a couple of days, but it can’t keep him hospitalized any longer. finally, it’s time for him to get back to work.

for a minute, the only sounds in the kitchen are the clicking of wonwoo’s fingers against his keyboard and their fridge’s water dispenser filling soonyoung’s water bottle. “it’ll be good for you to get back into the groove of things.” wonwoo says. he knows that soonyoung’s still feeling under the weather even though he’s ready to get back to work. they have a mutual understanding of the situation. plus, soonyoung’s only scheduled to work for a couple of hours every day this week instead of full shifts. it is polite of his company to allow him to come back gradually over the course of two weeks.

finally, his water bottle is filled. soonyoung moves away from the fridge and starts to head towards the front door. _keys? check. sweatshirt? check. water? check. shoes? i’ll get to them at the door_. there’s only one last thing to do before he leaves.

he stops next to wonwoo, placing his hands on his shoulders. “it will be nice to get back into the groove of things.” soonyoung says, but he’s not talking about work as much as he is talking about _this_ . he leans down and presses his lips against wonwoo’s temple. a smile flourishes on wonwoo’s face as though he’s a flower that’s just been watered. but still, he wrinkles his nose after a moment of thought and mouths _gross_ to soonyoung. before he leaves, soonyoung makes sure to steal a real kiss from him, but barely a peck.

 **_p_ ** _rivacy_

“this movie blows,” soonyoung says, ungracefully throwing an arm behind wonwoo’s seat. wonwoo shifts slightly closer to him. they’ve been here, in the very back row of the _only_ decrepit theater that this city has to offer, enough to have this script memorized. most of the movies they come to see turn out to be flops. it’s the curse of independent films. most of the time, they have a similar plotline to the last independent film they’ve seen. they tend to stop being impressive after the third or fourth rotten plotline.

maybe soonyoung just finds similarities within them that aren’t actually even there. maybe he does this just so he can have a few minutes isolated from the movie, from the theater, from the other movie-goers. there is something incredibly private about being together among a handful of others. other people surround them, but they are the only two with importance right now. also, there’s something electric about touching wonwoo in public and risking their decency. maybe he should know better, _act_ better, but he’s unable to think straight when wonwoo is so pliable in his hands. he’d do _anything_.

it takes three movements. one: soonyoung brushes his fingers along the underside of wonwoo’s jawline and it captures his attention in every way he had hoped it would. wonwoo inclines his head towards soonyoung, and even though soonyoung is shorter than him, he’s looking up expectantly at him. he’s waiting. two: soonyoung pushes forward until their noses are bumping. wonwoo has understood from the first movement, but he makes the most out of the anticipation. for him, that’s all this is about. the longer he can hold out and tempt soonyoung, the more he’ll get out of their exchanges. it drives soonyoung _wild_ to know that wonwoo, more-or-less, gets off to having some control over his desperation for contact between their bodies. sometimes he isn’t calmed until he has soonyoung _begging_ for the simple brush of a kiss or the intertwining of their limbs. wonwoo’s a professional tease by soonyoung’s standards. three: soonyoung curls his fingers into the hair at the nape of wonwoo’s neck and tugs gently. a soft sound falls from his lips and makes soonyoung _burn_ in want. all they have to do is be kissing. even just kissing feels so intimate that they should be behind closed doors.

there’s only a couple of ways that soonyoung can hold the upper hand in their relationship. most are simple touches that reduce wonwoo into an absolute mess. his neck is especially sensitive, so soonyoung uses that to his advantage. usually, it works unquestionably, but there are rare moments when wonwoo needs to hold the reins. this is not one of those times. he succumbs easily in those three movements until _he’s_ the one pushing forward to join their lips. they kiss soundlessly, lips barely moving together. it is a simple, lazy press that remains uncomplicated. soonyoung’s fingers thread deeper into wonwoo’s hair to keep him pressed this close. the armrest between them feels awkward, but it does nothing to stop them. before them, the movie plays, but they are the main act.

 **_d_ ** _rowning_

 _dying might feel like this_ . soonyoung thinks. his lungs burn from the lack of oxygen, but his lips burn more when they aren’t kissing. his internal body temperature feels too hot and he can feel his pulse reverberating across the expanse of his skin. it’s pounding so hard that soonyoung could believe that it is trying to tear out of his body. maybe it is trying to bury itself into wonwoo’s body. all they are doing is laying there, but it feels like so much. the whole world has lessened until it is only _wonwoo,_ only _wonwoo on this bed with soonyoung_. there’s not much more to it than that. they are just laying together, but his kisses burn. they are too sweet, too slow. they steal his breath away and then, once he is out of breath, they are suffocating him.

they separate. soonyoung gasps, still with his lips brushing against wonwoo’s skin. wonwoo is breathing heavily, chest heaving from all the effort he’s expending in this moment, on these kisses. soonyoung struggles for breath, but before he can fully catch it, wonwoo is pressing forward and enveloping him in a sweetness that makes the world fall out from underneath him. he wants to drown here forever. there are always those rare mornings when wonwoo doesn’t immediately rise to work on his novel, instead he stays there with soonyoung, wrapped up in the morning dew, and kisses him awake until he’s threatening to fall apart in the best ways. their mornings are for them only. soonyoung thinks he might be addicted to them. “st—stop,” soonyoung shivers, ghosting the command against his lips. it aches to pull breath in, but he needs it. he’s gasping, struggling to draw breath in. his exhales are short and his inhales are stressed.

“good morning,” wonwoo is just as breathless, his pupils blown wide. he looks funny like this, but soonyoung doesn’t laugh at him. mornings like this are beautiful. there is no other way he’d prefer to wake up, but there are only so many mornings that wonwoo decides are worthy of his gentleness. “i’ll make breakfast for us, ‘kay?” he leans in, still struggling to catch his breath, and rubs the tips of their noses together. his sweetness extends past this bed, but soonyoung’s mind is still racing from their shared kisses. he craves wonwoo’s touch so much that when he makes a motion to leave, soonyoung is tempted to try to hold him back. if they could just stay in bed for hours, just kissing, then that’s all soonyoung would need from the day. food and drink and fun wouldn’t matter because he’d have wonwoo, but that’s nothing new. he always needs wonwoo more.

**_a_** _ch_ _ing_

tears pool, and soonyoung wipes them away. “wonwoo,” he wants him to look at him, but he knows that the look of sadness will tear him apart. he’s not good at this: at being a support system. when he was younger, a lot of the tears that he shed were angry. he hadn’t ever been able to express his emotions in the ways that he wanted to. instead, his parents and other adults had tore him down until he could only be raw emotion. anger had been the easiest. sadness usually took the backseat to other emotions. soonyoung never could be just sad. but right now? wonwoo is solely feeling sadness. maybe there are other emotions involved, but they aren’t easy to understand or pull apart from his sadness. the tears that he sheds are only due to sadness. “wonwoo, _please_ ,” he shouldn’t be here. he shouldn’t be interrupting such a private moment, but here he is with wonwoo in his arms.

life contains disappointments. one of the biggest ones? death. but death could come in more forms than the usual physical form. right now, wonwoo is experiencing a loss, but a different type of one. wonwoo has to face the death of an idea. a whole draft of all his ideas had been thrown to the wind with no regard for all the hours put into crafting them into the image of perfection wonwoo’s mind had envisioned. all of his work had been turned meaningless by a publisher who couldn’t commit. it had been wonwoo’s fourth attempt at publication, but no one wanted to work with wonwoo. wonwoo is stubborn: annoyingly so. if he had an idea, sometimes that idea was absolute and that was just how he worked. soonyoung could bump heads with him, but he knows better now than to try. upsetting wonwoo is as big of a failure as losing the argument yourself is. “i won’t send it anywhere else.” his hands reach out to grab blindly at sheets of paper. soonyoung lets him because he knows that he had hundreds of digital copies available to him. and if he deletes his, then soonyoung has a flash drive stashed away for some bleak day where the reality might be wonwoo throwing away his dreams.

sadness turns into desperation as he slides his hands across the desk and into the pile of papers that makes up his rough draft. he ends up knocking hundreds of pages onto the floor and they crash like a wave, separating and spreading out along the length of the kitchen tiles. soonyoung doesn’t try to stop him as he curls his hands into fists around the last couple of pages that remain in front of him. “i _hate_ it,” wonwoo spits his words. anger colors his face, but is quickly replaced by sadness again as he releases the papers and starts to cry again. the tears leak from his eyes and he buries his face into his hands so soonyoung doesn’t have to see his ugly undoing. “i wish i never wrote any of it.”

wonwoo loves his story. with his own hands, he had crafted a world that solely belongs to him. the publishers that he’s had don’t see the artistry in world-crafting. no one falls in love with the fictional as much as wonwoo does. “don’t say that,” soonyoung whispers. he doesn’t even know where he’s found his voice from because words are so hard when wonwoo is choking on his own breath. “you can’t say that, and you can’t give up. i’m not going to let you give up.” if he were standing, then he’d place his hands on his hips and act like a superhero. this isn’t the time for comedy though. with wonwoo’s legs draped over his own, soonyoung knows that wonwoo needs him in a way that he’s not accustomed too. always, wonwoo has been the stronger one in this relationship. soonyoung lets emotion overtake him and wonwoo remains level-headed. the change is immediate and scary. soonyoung wants to take wonwoo into his arms and act as a shield.

the only response he gets from wonwoo is in the form of movement. suddenly, wonwoo’s face is buried in the crook of soonyoung’s neck. his tears drop, hot and thick, onto his bare skin and it makes soonyoung feel hollow, but endless. something deep within his core bottoms out to welcome a type of angry hopelessness that he never wanted to feel. it almost is like soonyoung is the only person in a seemingly endless, dark hallway. there’s no visible escape and there’s no hope for him to latch onto to help him. this must be how wonwoo feels right now, but outside of himself. his whole world is the hopeless feeling that soonyoung feels deep within himself. it must be torturous for wonwoo. if only he could reach out and guide him through that hallway so that they could find the light.

because he can’t do anything else, soonyoung presses his lips against wonwoo’s temple, then peppers kisses into his hair. “i _love_ you. you are _talented_. _i believe in you_ ,” these aren’t the words that will heal wonwoo, but he wants to try to undo any of the damage that he can. no one has a right to hurt wonwoo. soonyoung can’t think of anyone in the whole world that should have a right to hurt him in any way. pain shouldn’t be able to touch him. he wishes that he could take away all that pain or shield him from it. seeing him in pain only makes soonyoung ache. he hates this so much. again, he kisses him, but he’s clearly trying to communicate, soundlessly, that this pain will pass. does wonwoo feel it? he doesn’t know, can’t know, but _god,_ does he wish he could.

 **_c_ ** _omfort_

sometimes, they take turns feeling their emotions. soonyoung knows how selfish it is to be crying over wonwoo’s problems, but the love builds up in him and then crashes down around him. whenever wonwoo feels pain, soonyoung does too. it aches throughout his whole body. maybe that’s just the selfish part of love creeping in to flood his bloodstream. it can get to people. loving wonwoo takes over a percentage of soonyoung’s body: it claims hold of his nerve endings, his emotions, some of his motor functions and reactions. sometimes it acts just like a sickness, but other times it settles in his chest like it is just another component that he had been born with. maybe he had been. maybe his body had been created to love wonwoo. that would explain why his emotions weigh so heavy on him. their tears are not the same, but they can be drawn at the same time. connected pipes.

he doesn’t hear when wonwoo enters the room. if he did then he’d clean his face up and rush towards the adjoining bathroom to barricade himself in. the last thing he needs to be is wonwoo’s problem. there’s a dip in the bed. it changes the weight distribution for a split second, then it settles back to an equilibrium that soonyoung feels every night. for some reason, wonwoo’s presence just makes him cry harder. “go away,” his words come out watery and pathetic. it is a plea that wonwoo doesn’t answer with words. instead, his hands run along the cotton of soonyoung’s shirt. he’s still dressed in his sleeping clothes. the downy softness of it feels nice against his skin. he thinks wonwoo’s touch would feel better than the most expensive fabric in the whole world. his touch distracts him, knocks him off balance. he sniffs and his breath stutters, caught between his body and open air.

“do you want me to?” wonwoo’s voice is calm, controlled. his world had been crumbling down around him yesterday, but now he’s whole. it’s a mask that he wears well, but soonyoung wishes that he could be honest about his feelings. pain is what he must be feeling, but all he shows is patience and control and serenity. _the future holds more opportunities_ , soonyoung had spoken those words to him. he might have just taken those words and held onto them. he may have just believed in them because that’s what he does.

“no,” hiccups soonyoung. “no, no, no.” he turns over with desperate hands. his fingers curl into wonwoo’s shirt so that he can use him as an anchor. if wonwoo is here, then soonyoung might be able to appropriately collect himself. all he needs is wonwoo and all of his pain heals itself. there’s magic in wonwoo’s touch, in his words, and that’s probably why he had decided to become a writer. “ _please_ , don’t leave.” soonyoung buries his leaking nose into wonwoo’s chest. it’s gross, unsanitary, but wonwoo doesn’t push him away. if anything, he pulls him closer with gentle hands that comfort as much as burn.

his hands are on his back right now, rubbing gentle circles. then they travel. they cross over the expanse of his back, passing his sides, then trace the length of his arms. finally, wonwoo is holding his hands. “okay,” there’s a smile on his face. soonyoung thinks he should look broken, but he shines mesmerizingly. soonyoung’s breath catches and a new wave of sobs rattle his insides, beat against his ribs. “i won’t leave you, soonyoung.” he’s caught off-guard by the sudden onslaught of fresh tears, but he remains calm. it’s a skill that he’s learned over the years. soonyoung wishes that he could learn something that useful. “i’ll never leave you, soonyoung.” he lifts soonyoung’s hands from the bed and holds them in between their bodies. then he’s pressing soft kisses against each finger.

 _(left thumb)_ soonyoung sniffs, surprised by the sudden sweetness. his whole chest bursts with a warmth that he’s never felt before. _(right forefinger)_ his fingers ache. that shouldn’t be possible, but it is. his fingers feel as much as his heart does. they long to receive the love that wonwoo is so willing to give. his whole body is an act of desperation. _(left pinky)_ “i love you,” wonwoo murmurs against the palm of his hand, peppering kisses there. before he returns to his task, though, he leans his cheek against soonyoung’s palm. the way he looks up from underneath his lashes has soonyoung’s stomach doing somersaults. he’s in love. he’s so in love that it makes his breath catch and his heart stutter. his tears have stopped, or slowed, but only because _this_ wonwoo is at the center of his universe. _(left forefinger)_ he holds his lips there and soonyoung traces the shape of his lips shyly. this is a type of intimacy that soonyoung is unfamiliar with. each kiss feels like it is being pressed against his soul. his lips press against his skin and they burn right into soonyoung’s bone, scarring it indefinitely. it’ll take years of decomposition before wonwoo is erased from him. it’ll take eons before soonyoung’s soul recovers. _(right ring finger)_ soonyoung implodes and destroys the whole universe.

**_h_** _eat_

once upon a time, soonyoung thought he knew what death felt like, but now he knows. he’s familiar with the death of his heartbeat now, all he needed was some time. sharply, he inhales. all wonwoo is doing is kissing him, but how whole body feels feverish. his body is too bare while wonwoo’s is too clothed. “wonwoo,” he warns without heat or anger. in response, wonwoo laughs, addictingly, and dips his tongue into his belly button. the motion is quick and soonyoung barely has time to register it. “babe, babe, i have to ask you to fuck off with all of _that_.” his voice cracks like he’s a teenager doing this for the first time. but only one of those are true right now. he shifts, slightly uncomfortable and wonwoo reads the motion without hesitation. he sits up, stradling soonyoung.

“ _what_?” soonyoung asks, slightly annoyed and very uncomfortable or maybe it is the other way, but he can’t even begin to understand himself right now. this is new territory.

wonwoo doesn’t look away from him, but he almost wishes that he would. it is like he can see right into soonyoung’s mind. “just checking in,” he says, dipping down to press a kiss against the side of his neck. “is all of this okay?” instead of patiently waiting for a response, he bites into the pliant skin of soonyoung’s neck. it makes soonyoung’s hips jerk up and his hands squeeze tighter into wonwoo’s skin. he’s not very good at telling wonwoo what he wants or _how_ he wants it. he tries to speak more with actions, but wonwoo holds himself back until there’s verbal confirmation. this time, however, he’s teasing him. it’s all a test that soonyoung doesn’t want to fail because he’s desperate for friction and touch and heat. his heart feels like it might burst at any second, so he wants to make the most out of this before he dies.

when he doesn’t reply right away, wonwoo sinks his teeth in deeper. he knows how to add just the right amount of pressure so that soonyoung can feel himself unfolding. he can feel his anxiety dissolving in some sort of chemical emotional reaction to desperation, _hunger_.

“yeah, that’s not the problem,” soonyoung manages, blunt nails dragging against wonwoo’s hips until wonwoo is sitting back up to analyze him. “we are having a different problem.” he says, blushing. as soon as he says it, a smile blossoms on wonwoo’s face and soonyoung has to look away. “i hate you,” he says, hitting a palm against his chest.

“hey!” wonwoo pouts, leaning closer and closer until his forehead is resting against soonyoung’s. “what’s really going on, babe?” he rubs his nose against soonyoung’s until he is being swatted away again. “hey, i’m seriously asking. we aren’t going to go any further until you let me know what’s wrong, okay? let’s talk about this.” there’s something so honest about wonwoo that soonyoung’s walls just start caving in. all he can do is trust him because that’s all he has ever done. maybe that’s always been the problem.

carefully, as if testing the waters, soonyoung traces his fingers along the lines of wonwoo’s chest. they aren’t sculpted with perfection. no, actually, they are imperfect and he has scars from childhood accidents. his body isn’t like the ones that soonyoung has seen on the screens and it isn’t exactly like the ones from the videos he’s watched in preparation for this day. wonwoo isn’t anything like _anyone._ if he were, would this be easier for soonyoung? this situation is too new. he should know wonwoo by now, and he does, but he doesn’t know _this_ wonwoo. this is the wonwoo that he’s only ever gotten glimpses of. the ground they are laying on is newly spread. soonyoung wishes he knew how to act, but he’s clumsy.

wonwoo shivers underneath his touch. it is just the slightest quake, but it has soonyoung’s lips parting in awe. maybe there’s a hint of reverence in his touch. maybe this is so hard because he wants to offer wonwoo perfection in ways that he cannot. their relationship is confusing to soonyoung because he doesn’t just want to make wonwoo happy. that’s never the full explanation behind his actions. no, soonyoung wants to give wonwoo a love that is so perfect that he never has to question it. he wants to give him touch that is so addictive that he can’t let go of it. he wants wonwoo to have all of him without having any of the bad stuff, but wonwoo wants the bad stuff too. it doesn’t make any sense.

“okay, i’m going to say the problem, but you can’t laugh. it’s a question, okay?” courage usually comes easily to soonyoung, but he’s flustered right now. wonwoo could laugh at him and it would make him feel demeaned. that’s the power that he holds over him right now. first times, for soonyoung, are always awkward. it doesn’t matter if it is his first time ordering alone at a restaurant or if it is his first time having sex. if he doesn’t already know what to do in the situation, then anxiety occurs and plagues him. there’s no way he can be calm about this situation. _how can wonwoo be?_ he wants to scream, forever.

wonwoo nods. he’s patient, even if there’s a hardness insistently poking against the inside of soonyoung’s thigh. that only makes all of this more real. if soonyoung moves, he feels the gravity of this moment: what it actually means in the greater scheme of things. this moment will probably affect him for the rest of his life, _right?_ that’s how first times with important people go. if a person decides to wait for that ‘special someone’ then they are just setting their self up for a mess of anxiety and sweaty palms and none of that is sexy. he has expectations about this moment that aren’t being met. _is that a bad thing?_

back to the problem. _that_ problem. the one that is plaguing soonyoung so badly that he can’t even try to enjoy this. it’s silly, the type of silly that he _expects_ wonwoo to laugh at. when he’s known wonwoo for this long, he can predict his behavior. it’s a second nature of his. “do i have to do…” he looks around, says it like he’s ashamed. “... _dirty talk_?”

there’s a moment of silence. the break of it is supposed to be laughter, low and deep and _infuriating_. instead, wonwoo’s hands are warm and large on his cheeks. “if you don’t want to, then you don’t have to. we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. if there’s something you know you don’t want to do, then you can tell me and we won’t do that, ever. if you want to try it one day, then we can try it too. that’s what all this is about.” his voice is calm, level, and even. it isn’t anything that soonyoung had expected.

the warmth at his cheeks travel down to his thighs. there he massages the skin in small circles, soothingly. the touch is a little bit electric; he almost jumps in response. “okay,” he pouts his lips and wonwoo leans over to kiss him. there’s no deftness in the action. instead, it is more teeth and tongue and frustration. soonyoung can feel how wonwoo wants to come undone, but he’s willing to wait until soonyoung is ready. the kiss ignites soonyoung again. his whole body is on fire and he reaches out to lace his fingers behind his neck to keep him close. honestly? soonyoung wants to feel how it is to explode.

**_p_** _ressure_

“ _soonyoung_ ,” wonwoo whines, bending in towards his touch. “babe, not in the kitchen. we _aren’t_ doing this in the kitchen.” soonyoung doesn’t have to be told how unsanitary it is to have sex in the kitchen, but he does need the reminder right now. it’s _desperate_ and _totally inappropriate_ to bombard wonwoo in the middle of the night when he clearly can’t sleep, but soonyoung is needy. plus he knows that wonwoo needs a break from working on his novel. there’s a mutual benefit in this that soonyoung wants to monopolize off of.

his coffee lays forgotten, freshly poured, and soonyoung feels _proud_ of himself for this ability of his. with an improvised script, he’s able to pull wonwoo away from the remnants of his novel that plague him day and night. all he thinks about anymore is how to improve upon his ideas without throwing them all away. soonyoung knows how to be his cheerleader, but he needs to practice being other things for him too. he’d hate to see what wonwoo would become if all the stress ate at him until he ended up in the hospital. that’s not a future that he’s willing to wait for, so he’s taking wonwoo to bed: sexily or not.

they dance through the hallway, half past four in the morning. it’s not controlled in the slightest, instead it’s messy and wonwoo knocks his elbow into the wall and soonyoung’s back ends up with the corner of a door frame digging into it. both feel the anticipation, but neither want to comment on it. wonwoo lets soonyoung push him back against the edge of the bed, lets soonyoung lay him down with only one hand guiding him, lets him climb into his lap to scatter erratically placed kisses against his neck. there’s a laziness in his motions that wonwoo doesn’t seem to mind. he leans his head to the side, giving soonyoung easier access to his skin. it’s rare for soonyoung to have complete control in these situations, so his brain feels like it is blowing fuses left and right, throwing sparks and burning important decision-making areas in his mind.

“hey, kiss me,” wonwoo whispers, nose brushing against soonyoung’s earlobe. and this is what soonyoung is the best at: complying with wonwoo’s wishes. he kisses him gently, pressing him into the mattress until they feel like they’re sinking into it. contentedly, wonwoo hums, parting his lips to let soonyoung lick into his mouth. their tongues brush against one another and the wetness only makes soonyoung needier. his brain seems to fixate on how their lips feel pressed together. there is a familiarity in the way they kiss and that is enough to comfort soonyoung. he knows wonwoo: knows what he likes and how he likes it. they know how they fit together. there’s nothing for him to worry about.

because he needs to do more than just kiss wonwoo, soonyoung pulls away. the loss is apparent and feels dissonant in the air between them. “i love you,” he licks his lips, running his hands down wonwoo’s sides until he can grab at the hem of his shirt. “i love you,” he doesn’t tug it off him quite yet. instead, he just bends to nip at wonwoo’s stomach. others might not think he’s breathtaking, but soonyoung always finds the process of undressing wonwoo as beautiful. there’s something so interesting about the way wonwoo watches him, expectant and desperate. he’s so composed, most of the time, but soonyoung’s figured out how to undo him in all the right ways.

wonwoo jumps at the contact, but then he’s laughing. it fills up soonyoung’s chest with a happiness that he can’t imagine anyone else making him feel. “i love you, soonyoung.” he shakes his head, sitting up to press a kiss against soonyoung’s forehead. it tips soonyoung’s world until he feels like they are floating: gravity failing them. this is what it feels like to be stuck in an endless love. it swallows them entirely. wonwoo laughs again, probably at soonyoung’s expression, and then he’s pulling his shirt off.

**_a_** _s_ _hes_

“call work and tell them my ass aches,” soonyoung throws a pillow towards their bathroom. it glances off the door frame, missing its intended target. said target peeks his head out of the bathroom with the handle of his toothbrush hanging out of his mouth. his lips are all foamy and the sight alone makes soonyoung feel sickeningly domestic. still, though, he’s upset at wonwoo and he’s not getting out of this by being _cute_ . his hair is sticking up in every which way. it’s the worst case of sex hair that he’s ever had, or at least, the worst that soonyoung has seen. his hair has grown out just enough for soonyoung to be able to grasp at it in earnest. it’s a bad habit of his, admittedly. it’s why whenever wonwoo asks him to cut his hair, he leaves it a little longer than wonwoo used to wear it. that’s just a selfishness that is ideally harmless. “i’m _serious_ , wonwoo.”

in response, wonwoo shrugs, disappearing back into the bathroom. soonyoung can hear the sink running. before he reappears, his voice carries itself into the bedroom. “i’d do a lot of things for you, but sadly… telling your boss that your ass hurts is not how i imagine spending my sunday morning.” there’s laughter in his tone, but soonyoung is feeling both miserable and like he’s sitting on top of the world. those feelings are very irresponsible.

“sex ban,” he says. “i’m not putting out for you anymore. you are a bully and do not care about the health of my ass.” as though he doesn’t look pitiful enough, he twists his bodies into the sheets so that he’s more-or-less a cocoon of all the blankets and sheets. wonwoo will have to fistfight him if he wants to come back into _this_ bed. it’s private property of soonyoung and his achy limbs only. “nevermind, call them and tell them my _whole body_ is sore.” he’s a dancer so he should be better at this. stretching before sex just isn’t ideal? he doesn’t know anyone who stretches before they get freaky in the sheets. he’d be an anomaly among the whole population. or at least, ninety-five percent of them. or something like that. he’s never been a pro at sociology or statistics or anything that isn’t dancing and/or loving wonwoo.

“ _you_ call off work.” soonyoung can _hear_ that he’s rolling his eyes. it makes him throw another pillow towards him. wonwoo just catches it and tosses at back onto the bed, easily missing the mass that is soonyoung. “you call off all the time when you are sick.”

the burrito known as soonyoung moans, unattractively, flipping onto his stomach as he does so. “if you call then i have more credibility. it’ll make it sound like i’m too sick to even hold a conversation. it’s _genius_ , wonwoo, pure genius.” wonwoo doesn’t seem to believe it. he sits down on the bed and soonyoung tries to push him off of it with his clothed feet. it’s incredibly rude of wonwoo to not call into work for him. if he doesn’t do it soon then he’ll have to either go to work or check himself into the hospital.

“you feeling like shit isn’t my fault. _you_ were the one who _assured_ me that you were flexible and that you’d like to experiment. ‘it’s our anniversary, wonwoo,’ you said,  ‘we deserve a special night,’  and ‘it doesn’t matter that i work tomorrow.’” he presses his feet a little harder into wonwoo’s thigh. if he can’t push him off then maybe he can make it so uncomfortable that he will just leave. wonwoo sees through his plans and just tickles him in retaliation. he withdraws from the fight immediately. tickling is forbidden and punishable by death. surely wonwoo knows that, but it doesn’t matter because he’s purposely being evil this morning. soonyoung has half a mind to roll off the bed. a concussion will definitely do absolutely no good for either of them, but who cares about rationality when soonyoung’s boyfriend is soaking in post-sex bliss and he’s wishing that he could delete his ass from existence.

“you are mean and my _least_ favorite person, jeon wonwoo.” soonyoung looks away from him. he’ll call into his own damn work and tell his manager, in detail, just _why_ he’s in so much pain. (no, he won’t be doing any of that. homophobia, as everyone knows, is ass, and he quite likes his job.) “give me my phone,” he tries to garner some pity, at least. wonwoo still has a heart, at least.

instead of handing him his phone, he leans over and gives him a lazy kiss. it isn’t anything but lips, but it still stuns soonyoung momentarily. “i’ll call you in,” he says, softening. then he presses a kiss against the tip of his nose. “and then i’ll go make you some hot chocolate, okay?” immediately, he wants to perk up, but he can’t let wonwoo win. that’s clearly what’s going on now.

instead, he pouts, looking away from wonwoo pointedly. “okay.” only a _fool_ denies free hot chocolate made by jeon wonwoo, perfectionist. “sex ban still in place though.”

**_g_** _e_ _ntle_

the light stretches across their bed in just the right way. it is one of those mornings that authors try to capture. soonyoung wakes up after wonwoo and watches him hold his hand up to the sunlight. it is a child’s game: trying to catch the impossible. wonwoo knows better. rather than trying to capture it, he’s marveling at the way it moves across his skin. maybe he will sit down in front of his computer or notebook in a couple of hours and attempt to recall exactly how this moment feels. would he be successful? soonyoung knows that wonwoo’s reading is typically dark in terms of romance, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t romance in other aspects of the settings and characters and events. wonwoo creates worlds that soonyoung wishes existed. in those worlds, people could be braver.

“good morning,” his voice is hoarse, still heavy from sleep. wonwoo smiles down at soonyoung, leaning in to press a kiss against his temple. it makes soonyoung feel like wonwoo’s caught the sunlight. the kiss is warm and that warmth spreads all the way to soonyoung’s toes. there’s something so comfortable about wonwoo. living with him is easy. when they were growing up together, all of soonyoung’s time would pass with wonwoo beside him. he never understood why time went so fast when they were together, but now it makes sense. they have a whole lifetime ahead of them.

_... **e**_ _nd_

what does forever mean?

for kwon soonyoung, it means until the end of the universe. so, maybe when the sun implodes and swallows everything whole is forever. but forever could also be momentary. that’s how time worked, right? soonyoung could never wrap his head around the idea of time. _isn’t it just made up?_ teachers would reassure him of the necessity of time, but he hated having to count the days when wonwoo and him were apart from each other. he hated having to count down the minutes until wonwoo’s tears ceased. he hated having to breathe during those seconds before wonwoo replies to an ‘i love you.’ forever isn’t known to anyone, but it is defined by everyone. wonwoo’s definition isn’t the same as soonyoung’s. his is analytical: filled with science and poetry. he’s always been so much smarter than soonyoung, but it isn’t something soonyoung’s sensitive about.

so, when wonwoo says they are forever, soonyoung has to know what he means.

it doesn’t make sense, to soonyoung, to quantify love using time. _forever_ is related and controlled by time. or isn’t it? everyone always uses it in terms of telling time.

‘when?’ ‘forever.’

should they believe in deathless, endless love? is that the way that other lovers love? soonyoung knows that when they aren’t alive, then they can’t be loving, but he wants to know what happens to all the love that he had given during life. where does that go? it can’t just die because it exists in the air between them as much as it exists in them. does that make sense though? soonyoung doesn’t know. he’s got so much love in his body and that love can’t just _die_. he’ll never be able to give it all to wonwoo and that makes him wonder why people even love in the first place. if he never can give him all the love that he’s capable of, then… what happens to the rest of that love? it is all for wonwoo. no one else can use it. soonyoung’s heart aches sometimes and it is because he looks over at wonwoo and sees how he looks back at him. there is a reflection in his eyes that says more than words can. what’s with that? how can words fail when they are one of most primary ways of communication? life confuses soonyoung. why can’t he be forever?

why aren’t they forever?

**_e_** _pilogue_

stars are born all the time. stars die all the time. maybe that’s forever.

  


**Author's Note:**

> comments are always nice, but kudos are great. i'm a starving artist. 
> 
> ...ilu!


End file.
